


How It Started

by VictrolaDoll



Category: 21 Jump Street (TV), 21 Jump Street - All Media Types
Genre: Gay, M/M, Self-Discovery, Sexuality Crisis, i don't even know what happened, it's like candy, so bad but I can't stop, this was supposed to be a oneshot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4094941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictrolaDoll/pseuds/VictrolaDoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What started as a few glances back and forth between Doug and his best friend Tom, seems like it might just spark into something more... So long as somebody else with an eye for Tom doesn't get in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This is Where the Kissing Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are best friends supposed to look at each other like that? Tom isn't sure anymore.

Kissing had been how things had started out. No that wasn’t right. Staring had been it. Glances, more like. Doug Penhall would glance up with puppy dog eyes, watching Hanson reading at his desk or filing paperwork. He would quickly look back down, chewing his slice of pizza and pretending to mull over his own work as he tried to think of an excuse to strike up a conversation.

Tom Hanson would glance up more casually from his filing, or whatever he was doing, to look over at Penhall. The mook usually looked like he was pretending to work, but was more concentrated on not getting pizza grease on his reports. For some reason this was endearing, in a clumsy sort of way, and Tom would find himself cracking a slight smile as he went back to his work.

After a bit, Doug would work up something to say. Usually it was about a report for a case, or strike up a conversation about a hypothetical situation. These could get more people involved, or start with other people as an excuse to call over for Tom’s opinion. Sometimes Doug lost his confidence and could only manage, “Yo Tommy! You got a pen I can borrow?” Tom would usually be nice enough to toss over a pencil. Usually. Tom could get very specific about his pencils. Doug didn’t really get it, but he went with it.

The kissing came later. After the glances had turned into restless uncomfortable nights alone and awkward hand wringing under the table. The curiosity to reach out and touch would come in waves. The thing was that Doug was always so haphazard, Tom simply felt that as a good partner, it was his duty to straighten his partner’s shirt. The bigger man would look down as Tom every so often gave into his straightening urges. He immediately noticed that there was always this one lock of hair that hung down over Tom’s forehead making him look both rakish and sharp. Doug thought that maybe, just maybe, if he twirled that silky smooth curl around his finger, Tom would look up, their eyes would lock and Tom’s lips would part like they did whenever he got startled by something. That would be all the opening Doug needed. He was sure of it. Just that little moment and he could take Tom in his arms and kiss him. And _then_ \- and then... And then Doug really didn’t know what was supposed to happen next. Purely for the sake of curiosity, Doug began looking for somebody to explain how that sort naked wrestling was supposed to work. He had an idea of the theory, but it just didn’t make sense to him.

Tom, on the other hand, had no interest in how that sort of intercourse worked. Why should he? He wasn’t gay. He was healthy young man who was completely confident in his own sexuality. He just thought that spending time with the Doug was kinda nice. What were a couple of homosexually hinted jokes? After all, they were friends. Good friends. Best friends.

He’d been rather surprised when he went to straighten Doug’s lapel at the lockers one day and the larger guy started playing with his hair. Tom looked up to see his partner giving him this  _look_. It was that open, bambi-eyed stare that Doug would get when he was talking about something painfully emotional. Had something happened? The line between Tom’s brows deepened as he tried to read his friend, “Hey. You wanna talk about it?”

“What?” Doug seemed to lose some sort of nerve, or maybe he had just come back to himself. His expression closed off and he stepped away, out of Hanson’s reach. “Nah you just- It needed a little more curl y’know?” He swirled a finger at the front of his own hair, “Hey Tom, I gotta go do this thing. I’ll, uh, see you later, alright?” Trying to hide his embarrassment, and how his face was probably flushing, Doug turned and practically ran for the stairs.

“Right. See you tomorrow.” What was that about? Tom pulled at the lock of hair, going slightly cross eyed before turning to look in the mirror and twirling the curl around his own finger to see what it did. Was it weird that he kind of wished that Doug had just brushed it off his forehead? For some reason he sort of liked it when Doug touched him like that. The caring gestures of wiping food from his face, or fixing his tie were always welcomed and made Tom smile when the slightly disorganized man did those sorts of things for him.

That night while Penhall failed to sleep, Tom was tucked up in his own bed and this is where the tossing and turning came in from Tom's point of view. He was straight. He liked women. He  _really_  liked women. Men were... not supposed to be attractive. _Douglas Penhall_ was not supposed to be considered attractive to men. Tom was certainly man enough to analytically say that Doug had a good physic, nice face, good hands... It was the wanting to be touched by those hands that was strange and wrong. Today had sparked the wrong sort of imaginings, and Tom was trying desperately to explain them to himself. But hadn’t he been staring at the other man before? Watching Doug go about his business? Yes but...They were partners. Wasn’t he _supposed_ to look out for his partner? Yes, but not _at_  his partner.

The next day, Tom came in, sat down at his desk, and stared at Booker. This would solve his questions. Dennis Booker was the ultimate bad boy. He was smart, violent, and muscular. And very nice to look at. The question was: was Tom enjoying looking at him? N- Yes. Yes he kind of was. Son of a Bitch.

Standing quickly Tom removed himself to the locker loft, propping his back against the railing with his head in his hands. Gay wasn’t a thing you could catch from another person. It was a part of you. It just  _was_. So did that mean he  _was_  gay and simply hadn't thought about exploring enough to figure it out? Shouldn't men have been more obviously attractive to him before now?

“You done checking me out?”

Tom’s head jerked up to see Booker himself standing at the top of the stairs with that knowing smirk on his face. “Now is really not a good time, Booker.”

“Ooh. Is princess having trouble figuring himself out?” Booker smirked and took a step forward. It wasn’t a menacing step, but Tom stiffened anyway, stepping away from the railing. “You think I didn’t notice the way you were looking at me? I know that look when I see it.” The paler man continued to lazily step forward until he had completely invaded Tom’s space, looking down at him as if there were more than barely a couple inches difference in their height. “So what’s it gonna be Hanson?”

“What?” Tom felt like something was happening and whatever it might be, he was way out of his depth. Not that he’d admit that to Booker. Ever.

“You gonna fight me, or kiss me?” Booker’s face was somehow closer than before, their noses almost touching. Tom could feel the other man’s breath on his chin.

“I-” Licking his lips, Tom tried to hold his ground, “Neither, _Dennis_.”

“Oh them’s fighting words,  _Hanson_. But I think I know what you want.” Grabbing Tom by the back of the neck, Booker pulled him into- well, _this_ is where the kissing started. Really good kissing, in Tom’s estimation. Booker wasn’t the type to go in gentle. He played for keeps. An arm wrapped around Tom’s back pulling their bodies together.

At first all Tom could really do was let it happen, but then the desperate realization set in that he’d forgotten to breath. He tried to open his mouth to catch a breath. Suddenly he was kissing back, clutching at the leather of Booker’s jacket. Kissing Booker was strange and wild and out of control, just like the man himself.

Neither of them noticed Penhall come up the stairs, pause at the top, and then slowly back his way down. Tom’s eyes were closed and he was too busy trying to breath through his nose. Even so he was breathless when their lips finally pulled apart. He stared at Booker. Did that mean Booker, _the_  ladies man of the department, was gay? Wait did this definitely make Tom gay? “That...” He blinked a moment before jerking out of Booker’s hold and backing away, “What  _was_  that?” Turning away, Tom smoothed his hair back, hand pausing at the nape of his own neck before he turned around again, “What the _hell_  was that, Booker?” He hissed.

It was aggravating how incredibly cool Dennis looked about all this, smacking his lips together and shoving his hands in his pockets, “What, ah, do you think it was?” He cocked his head slightly, squaring back his shoulders.

“You mess with me again,” Tom whispered threateningly, “And I will tell the entire department that you’re a fag.”

“Yeah but... you kissed back.” Booker’s smirk widened to a grin even as Hanson pushed past him and ran down the stairs. He waited until he was sure Tom was completely gone before letting his smile drop. “Shit.” He might have started that kiss, but Tom... Damn Tom had run with it and now Booker’s pants were just this side of uncomfortable. He had expected Tom to wuss out and jerk away. Right. Booker had forgotten that he was messing with the same guy who had broken into his apartment on their first case working together. Tom Hanson wasn’t the type to back down from a challenge. And neither was Booker. 

Now that he’d gotten a real taste of that firecracker, he kind of wanted more. Tom was already curious about men, that much was obvious. Maybe all Booker needed to do was get him a little  _more_  curious. Perhaps by offering him someone to be curious about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeeeey it's my first fanfiction for 21 Jump Street, and my first time posting on Archive. So, yeah, hit me up with what you think? Yes? No? Fuck you go away? It's all good.


	2. This is Where the Drinking Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sleepless night for our intrepid officers leads to a conversation in denial.

Penhall was ‘enjoying’ yet another sleepless night. All he could think about was Tom’s hands gripping that leather jacket and how their hips had been pressed together and their mouths... Doug groaned. He should have been the one kissing Tom. It should have been his flannel shirt that Tom had been gripping.  _His_  body pressed against Tom’s slim frame. Imagining the scene as it should have been made Doug whimper and then moan as his hand found a way to gently stave off the worst of the frustration.

He stroked his own shaft, closing his eyes and thinking of his partner. The way Tom grinned at Doug’s bad jokes. The way his hands gripped his gun or gently spread over a piece of paper. How his hair would fall in front of his face when he looked down, that one little curl refusing to stay in place. Those deep, dark eyes that could either stare down a perp or comfort a friend. It was so hard to get past the barrier of that gaze, but Doug had been there. He had seen Tom vulnerable, scared, emotional, and in pain. The barriers had lifted, and Tom had been... Tom. Just Tom.

An edited version of the scene from earlier replayed again in Doug’s mind. This time it didn’t stop with the kissing he had seen. This time it didn’t stop until Hanson’s shirt had been torn open, his back against the lockers with the other man’s hand down his jeans. Doug panted and groaned as he imagined Tom doing the same, fingers digging into Booker’s leather jacket-  _Booker?!_ Doug sat up with a start, not exactly liking this fantasy anymore. He was too painfully hard to stop now, though. Laying back down, he just tried to turn his mind back to Tom’s gasping, Tom’s writhing, Tom’s bared chest and taught erection and what it might feel like to hold. Doug came, moaning his friend’s name to the corners of his empty apartment.

He lay there for a while, hoping that he might have tired himself out, but really now there was just more spinning through his head. Finally he got up and went to clean himself off. Maybe a shower would calm him down. As it turns out, it didn’t. By the time he came out he was still frustrated. Now he just happened to be frustrated and clean instead of frustrated and sticky with semen.

Tossing his towel back on it’s rack, he walked out of the steamy bathroom and found himself a clean pair of boxers to throw on. Getting ready to try sleeping again seemed as good an idea as any. He didn’t expect it to work, but there wasn’t anything else, or anyone else, around to do. At least there wasn’t until somebody pounded at his front door.

Doug quickly added a pair of sweatpants to his ‘outfit’ and went to answer the knocking.

“Heeeeeeey partner.” Tom Hanson stood propped against the door frame. If the sway in his stance and the half droop of his eyes didn’t give away his drunken state, the smell of him certainly did. He may as well have rolled around on a tavern floor. Actually, by the smudges on his jacket and jeans, he probably had.

Doug took all this in at a glance and looked uncertainly at his friend. “Tom? Uhh, you okay, buddy?” He thought he must be dreaming or something. Tom should have gone home with Booker, right? Wrong apparently. The younger cop proved himself to be very,  _very_  real by stumbling forward and falling against Doug’s broad frame. The best Doug could do was catch him and hang on, hoping that Tom didn't spill all the way to the floor and hurt himself, “Tom?”

“Yeeeup?” Tom was leaning into him, gently grazing his fingers over the hair on Doug’s bare chest. His cheek was pressed into the large man’s shoulder, breath tickling the base of Doug’s neck.

The ceiling had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world and Doug was determinedly keeping his eyes glued to it, “What are you doing here?” He tried desperately to think of innocent things like puppies, and the bible.

“I dunno... couldn’t sleep. You’re kinda wet.”

Doug swallowed hard, “I uh, just took a shower. You wanna come in? Maybe grab a bite?”

“Okay.” Pushing away, Tom stumbled around to Doug’s couch, plopping down on it with a heavy sigh.

Praying for a spontaneous cold shower, Doug went to put on a shirt and get some cold pizza out of the fridge. As an after thought he also grabbed a glass of water. “Comin’ in!” He dropped the pizza box on the coffee table, and sat on the other end of the couch as Hanson, offering over the water. “You uh, wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Tom leaned forward, fumbling the box open and grabbing a slice of cold pepperoni pizza. “Nnnnope.” He shoved the slice in his mouth and chewed sluggishly before looking over to see the proffered glass. Taking it with a nod he chugged it back.

“Woah, woah, don’t choke okay? I can’t have a dead cop in my apartment, it’s bad for business.” The sad attempt at humor fell rather flat, but that wasn't exactly new with Doug's comedy abilities.

There was no answer until the glass was completely drained. Then Tom shoved it back at Penhall and took another bite of Pizza. “S’okay. Once they find out I’m gay they won’ care.” He said it in that casual way that only Tom could. It was difficult to tell if he was joking or simply being flippant.

“What.” Doug tried not to stare, gripping the glass hard to keep from shaking. He didn’t have to act surprised despite having seen Tom with Booker earlier that day. It was one thing to walk in on a single passionate kiss that made his pants tight with both arousal and envy- Anyway. It was quite another thing to hear the confession from the horse’s mouth. He cleared his throat, eyes now concentrating on the absolutely amazing way that the pepperoni had been arranged on the pizza, “You uh- since when?”

“I dunno.” That was something Tom hadn’t really thought about because it really didn’t matter. In his drunken state however it seemed a thing to consider. Obviously if he was attracted to men now, he must have been gay all along, right? His head cocked slightly to the side, hair falling into his eyes as his brow furrowed with attempted thought.

“Okay but, you’ve dated plenty of women, Tommy. You love women.”

“Yeah. I do.” With a somewhat nonplussed look he shoved the last of the pizza slice into his mouth and there was silence until he finished chewing it, “I kissed Booker today.”

“So? You’ve kissed me on the cheek before.” Doug tried to brush it off as if he had no clue what was going on. He wasn’t actually sure how much of this he wanted to hear. Should he let Tom know that he’d seen it?

“No I mean he- y’know- _kissed_  kissed me.” Another piece of Pizza was stolen from it’s comfortable home amongst it’s brethren and forced to trial-by-teeth.

That made Doug pause for a moment, “I thought you kissed him.”

“What?” Tom wasn’t really doing very well in the focusing department just yet.

“Who kissed who, Tommy?”

“He kithed me-” The answer came partially garbled around his next bite of pizza, “I kithed back.”

“So that’s, you know, a natural reaction to being kissed, right?” Doug set the glass down on the coffee table and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, “I mean, it’s like in the movies when they guy and girl are fightin’ and he grabs her and kisses her and instead of pulling away she gives in.”

“I’m not a girl, Doug.” Hanson sighed, examining his half-eaten pizza slice. If he threw it at the wall would it stick?

“Well hey now, lets not be getting sexist hear. Judy’ll have our ' _badges_ ', if you know what I mean.” Grinning he leaned over, giving Tom a friendly little shove to punctuate the implication that he didn't mean their literal badges, but something else entirely.

“Hey wait, you’re not going to tell her about this, right Doug?” Either the pizza was starting to soak up the alcohol or the terror of the department finding out had excited some spark of sobriety. “You-” Tom sucked in a breath, licking his lips, “You can’t tell anyone.”

“No, no, Tommy!” The larger of the two men hurriedly tried to reassure his friend moving to sit a little closer on the couch so that he could rest a hand on his inebriated friend’s shoulder. “I’d never tell anybody what you told me in confidence. I swear.”

With a sigh, Tom leaned back into the seat, tossing the pizza remains back into the box and staring at the ceiling. “What’m I doing here, Doug?”

“Um, eating pizza and experiencing a crisis of sexuality?”

“I... I avoided him for the rest of the day. I went home and thought, ‘Nobody is going to understand this. I can’t go to anybody...’”

“Hey that’s not true you can always come to me. I’m your best friend, you can tell me _anything_.”

The silence stretched between them and Doug was starting to get a little nervous. Why was he trying to talk Tom out of he possibility of being gay? It would be great if Tom were gay! On the other hand it might just be a late experimental stage or something. After all, Tom had gone into rebellion pretty late as well. If Tom thought that he was gay and they started... something. Wouldn't it would be awkward when Tom realized that he liked women more. Not only that, but there was no guarantee of anything between them. As things were going, Booker looked like he would be stealing Tom's affections before Doug had a chance to try for them.

A gentle snore interrupted Doug's thoughts. Tom had apparently fallen asleep sometime in the lull of conversation. With a sigh the larger man stood and gently tried to pull his friend's body into a fetal position along the couch. At least Tom would be more comfortable that way and if he threw up the pizza, he wouldn't choke on it.

Tom looked so peaceful laying there that Doug almost couldn't help crouching down to smooth back that unruly lock of hair and give him a kiss on the forehead, "G'night, Tom." Then he stood, sighed, and went back to his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THUS is Chapter two written, edited, and released to you, gentle public. Comment with thoughts and shit. I wanna know what you all think.


	3. This is Where the Panicking Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attempt is made at a less inebriated conversation.

“Wakey,  _wakey_.” Doug stepped around the couch, picking up a stack of magazines and then dropping them back down on the coffee table. The noise had the desired effect, causing Tom to startle awake. He jerked, thinking that a gun had gone off and quickly rolled off the couch to present a less obvious target.

 After a moment several things registered to his groggy, panicking brain. For one, his head was absolutely pounding. For two, he was on the floor of Doug’s apartment. Thirdly, Doug himself, fully dressed and recently showered, was peering down at him with the  ~~cutest~~  most annoying grin on his face.

Tom groaned and let his forehead rest on the cool hardwood floor, “What am I doing here?” Was that him that smelled so bad? He would definitely need to shower and change before going in to work. Did he have the time to get back to his place for clothes? “What time is it?”

“It is...” Doug checked his watch, “Ten-oh-two.”

“WHAT?” Tom immediately scrambled to his feet ready to run to the door.

Fortunately Doug was there to stop him, pressing a hand to Tom’s chest with a chuckle, “Woah, woah, woah, I already took care of it. Fuller’s giving us a pass to come in late if you’re up to it. I told him you ate something bad and were puking your guts out at my place.”

“I still might so don’t rule it out.” With a groan Tom sat back on the sofa, shielding his eyes from the light of the apartment with one hand over his forehead, “I feel terrible.”

“Gotcha covered, buddy.” Doug shuffled around, sliding in his socks over the smooth floor to the kitchen counter where waited a glass of water and a bottle of Asprin. He walked a little more sedately back so as not to spill the water, and offered them to his ailing partner.

Tom took the pill bottle first with a soft, “Thanks.” He shook out a couple of pills into his palm and then set the bottle down so he could take the water. The cold liquid felt amazing going down his dry throat.

“So, ah...” Doug sat on the coffee table glancing down at his own hands for a moment before turning his gaze very seriously towards Tom, “You wanna tell me what last night was about?”

“I-” The younger man’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember, “I went to a bar... I remember they kicked me out... What happened after that?” He looked to Doug for answers, hoping beyond hope that he hadn’t done anything too stupid.

“Well, Officer,” Doug took on a mock serious voice as if testifying before an imaginary court room, “The suspect in question knocked on my door at the most ungodly hour of the morning. He was highly intoxicated and sang ’Lets Get It On’ and tried to kiss me until he passed out on my couch. Does the defendant have a response?”

Tom groaned and buried his head in his hands. He didn’t remember doing any of that.

“Hey, Tommy, I’m joking.” Doug grinned, clapping his friend on the shoulder, “You had some pizza, talked a little, and passed out.”

“That isn’t funny.” The possibility of Doug getting hit with a pillow was greatly decreased in that he didn’t keep any on his couch. Instead Tom just glowered at him.

With a shrug Doug brushed off his friends glare, “Hey, you believed it. I mean I get why you’re nervous about kissing Booker, I would be too, he’s not exactly my type, but kissing one guy doesn’t exactly mean all your barriers are gone. Y’know?” He tried to say it all completely casually as if nothing were off in the slightest. “Breakfast?”

“Oh god-” With a groan, Tom reburied his face in his hands, leaning back into the couch as if hoping the cushions would swallow him whole.

“Is that a no for breakfast? Cause I go this bacon that needs to be used, but don’t say yes if you think you’re gonna loose it. I don’t wanna waist the food.” He waited expectantly for some answer or response, but Tom had slid down into a slouch and stopped showing signs of life. With a sigh, Doug moved over to sit on the couch next to his friend, “Tommy... you had to tell somebody sometime, and it might as well have been me. I mean, I’m your best friend, I don’t care about that stuff, and I already knew.” He flushed slightly and continued as Tom’s head snapped to the side, hands lowering to stare at Doug in horror. “Well there wasn’t exactly a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the stairs y’know.”

“Doug- You didn’t- You won’t-”

“Tell anybody?” A deprecating smile quirked the corner of Doug’s mouth, “No, Tommy. If I out you, I’d feel obligated to out myself and Booker and Jim, you know, that guy in accounting? So you want breakfast or not?”

Nodding dumbly, Tom just watched as Doug got up and went to the kitchen, starting to prep the food. His heart was racing a mile a minute and he had to clench his fists to suppress the feeling that he might start shaking. This was all happening way too fast. For somebody who dealt with bullets and drug-hyped kids for a job, Tom was simply not equipped to handle the speed of his own life. Instead of waiting around for bacon, he did the only thing he could think to do. He got up and practically ran out the door.

“Tommy? Tommy wait-!” Doug dropped what he was doing and hurriedly stuck his head into the hall, but his shout was met only with the echo of Tom’s footsteps. “Nice going, Doug. _Real_ smooth.” Turning off the burner, he put the food away and went in to work on an empty stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late post. Father's day had me a bit busy.


	4. BRB I SWEAR

SORRY THAT THERE HASN'T BEEN AN UPDATE  
I'M ALMOST DONE WITH SUMMER SCHOOL  
AND THEN I SWEAR YOU WILL GET A NEW CHAPTER


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